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“No; but you can ask concessions, and buy stocks, and keep hotel in the shack, an’ board us men. Make more money ’n we do. They always do, you know; not the fellers that works, but the smart ones that work them. I’m hungry enough to eat May Nell right now!” He snapped his teeth together with a ferocious grin as the little girl came near; and she laughed back at him more joyously than her mother would have believed possible could she have known; for this wholesome out-of-door frolic was a boon to the child, white from life within brick walls. In his anticipation of the Sunday afternoon treat in store for him, Moses dreamed all that night of little dark-skinned men running round after him with bowls of rice and jabbing him with chop-sticks. He returned his notes to his pocket with the assurance of one whose unreliable memory has been fortified and rendered infallible. Nevertheless the voluminous folds of Eliza Wopp’s cotton nightgown fluttered all night under the starry heavens..
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Mrs. Wopp’s face assumed a forgiving air as she accepted this defence. Then began that portion of the story that leads up to the tragic culmination. “Why, ma, the children are quite respectable; I know all their mothers.” Buzz’s mamma looked a little mischievous. A tall, lean, loose-jointed, large-limbed man was enjoying the frosty air and walked briskly humming a gay tune. All at once he found his face upturned to the glorious blue sky and a youthful voice reached his ear, “Did you see the telegraph pole sail over that icy spot?” Then another voice equally youthful, but with a distinct absence of city polish, answered, “Betcher life I seen him, wouldn’t of missed it fer a punkin pie, he’s lookin’ fer gopher holes in the ground yet.” CHAPTER IV.—WASH-DAY AT MRS. WOPP’S..
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